Just a Kiss
by XtremeGal87
Summary: Orihime finds herself flustered as the approach of college causes one of her friends to declare that it is past time Orihime experiences her first kiss. Orihime herself only wants the subject dropped...at least, until Ichigo unknowingly walks into the conversation. He might just have different thoughts on what to do about the situation. IchiHime Oneshot.


_**A/N:**_ Hi, everybody! I wish I could say 'it's good to be back!', but I'm not really _**back**_, so…I can't. I'm posting this for two simple reasons: I wanted to let you all know that this may very well be my _**final**_ fanfic (which is so sad! I wish I could have at least managed to sneak in one more long story!), and to let you know that _**I've officially signed a contract with a publisher**_ for an original story! But I'll get more into that in the bottom A/N ^_~ Right now, all you need to know is that I'm sorry for having to leave you, but hopefully I'll leave you with a smile! Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I still do not own Bleach. If I did, the anime would not be on hiatus (it's not allowed to be over!), and IchiHime would be canon by now!

**Just a Kiss**

** Orihime Inoue** was eating her lunch on Monday afternoon, silently wondering what Tatsuki must have threatened to keep Chizuru off of her in the karate champion's absence, when she realized that the rest of her group of friends had suddenly turned their full attention to her. Her hand stilled near shoulder height, holding a piece of homemade bread awkwardly in the air, and Orihime released an awkward, self-conscious laugh as she looked around.

"Heh, um," she began, slowly lowering the bread, "did I miss something? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to space out!"

"Don't worry about that, Orihime!" Chizuru sang with a suspicious grin.

"Orihime," Mahana called pointedly, cutting a quick glare to Chizuru before focusing a stern expression on their mutual friend. "Have you ever been kissed?"

Orihime's eyes were immediately bulging out of her head. "Eh?" She knew her face was quickly reddening, and she wished she knew why her friend was suddenly asking such embarrassing questions, so that she could find a way to avoid them.

"It's important," Mahana declared, undaunted by Orihime's expression. "Besides, it's just a yes or a no. I'm not asking for details."

"U-um, I…no," Orihime stuttered, swallowing several times just to get the words past her lips.

Mahana released a long-suffering breath, her head dropping slightly. "That's what I thought you'd say."

"Obviously," Ryo mumbled before taking a bite of her rice ball.

Lifting her gaze back to Orihime, Mahana said, "Then I want you to listen to me, Orihime. We all know college is just around the corner, but it probably hasn't occurred to you exactly what that means. College is _**different**_. You don't want to go into that environment without at least having experienced your first kiss."

Confusion was vying with embarrassment for dominance as Orihime found her eyes stuck on her friend's unbelievably serious expression. "Um…why?" It was the only question she could think of.

Mahana sat back, settling in against the tree behind her, and explained, "Because a first kiss is important. I've told you about my sister, right? She's in her third year now, but her first semester of college was a good lesson to the both of us. You see, on her _**third day**_ of college, some guy she didn't know waltzed up to her and kissed her without warning. He even used _**tongue**_."

"Seriously?" Ryo asked, one eyebrow raised.

Michiru had lifted a hand to her lips, her eyes wide with horror, but she said nothing.

Chizuru was disgusted as she groaned and declared, "I'd like to see some idiot boy try that with me!"

Orihime, however, had yet to move past confused. She imagined Mahana's sister (who was, supposedly, a soft-spoken woman) had been unnerved and upset by something like that, and she felt sorry for her. But she failed to see what this had to do with _**her**_.

Mahana continued – ignoring both Ryo and Chizuru – without removing her gaze from Orihime. "My sister has always been shy around boys, so she'd never had a boyfriend or shared her first kiss. So, really, this stranger _**stole**_ her first kiss. Naturally, my poor sister was traumatized. She realized later that same day that she had two classes with him, so she switched her entire schedule around just to avoid him. It was a very big deal."

"That does sound horrible," Orihime finally offered when Mahana paused again.

"It was," Mahana agreed with a nod. "And the whole reason I'm telling you that story is so that you'll understand why it's incredibly important for you to _**at least**_ have your first kiss before you start college. We all know Tatsuki's going to a different school, so she won't be there to protect you, and even if she were she couldn't be next to you _**every single moment**_. You need to be proactive with this. You don't want to go through what my sister went through."

"M-Mahana, I don't think…that is, I'm sure I'll be fine!" Orihime insisted, flushing again. She so did _**not**_ want to be having this conversation.

"Uh-huh," Mahana began, "I'm sure my sister said the same thing to herself when she woke up that morning, too."

"But," Michiru interrupted, her hand finally returning to her lap, "how's Orihime supposed to do that, exactly? Won't it essentially be the same thing if she just asks someone to kiss her for the sake of kissing her?"

"It absolutely would," Mahana agreed, turning an appreciative smile to her friend, "which is why that's not my suggestion. Of course, a boyfriend would be best, but I realize that there may not be time to get that taken care of, so we'll have to be flexible. Someone she trusts, preferably someone she's at least _**slightly**_ attracted to or who's somewhat attracted to her, is a necessity."

Before another word could be uttered Chizuru leaned into the circle of girls, declaring, "I'll do it! I volunteer! No dirty, rotten, ugly boy will take our precious Hime's first kiss away!"

Orihime laughed self-consciously, torn between being grateful for her friend's predictable interruption and just wishing the whole conversation would end, and said, "Th-that won't be necessary, Chizuru!"

Mahana sighed, reached forward, and deliberately pushed Chizuru back into a regular sitting position before saying, "That wouldn't work, anyway, Chizuru. Really, considering the situation, I think we _**all**_ know who the obvious candidate is."

Chizuru huffed, oblivious to Orihime's widening eyes, and grumbled, "What does _**he**_ have that I don't?"

"Muscles…?" Michiru offered, her own face a noticeable shade of pink as she averted her gaze.

Ryo smirked, sliding a glance toward the roof beyond them, and said, "Oh, I think it's a _**specific**_ muscle that-"

"_**No!**_" Orihime cried suddenly, a little louder than was necessary, as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and shook her head wildly. "No no no no no no! That really won't be necessary! Can we please just forget we ever had this conversation? In fact, I just remembered, I have to do something before the next class! See you all later!"

Somehow, during her wild, panicked ramblings, Orihime had managed to shove her half-eaten lunch back into her bento, and then stick the entire box back into her school bag. The school bag was barely secured before she sprang to her feet, her face crimson, and spun on her heel. She didn't spare a backwards glance at the group of girls still sitting behind her.

* * *

**She was** running blindly down the halls, her feet instinctively taking her as far from the danger as possible, as her mind raced with thoughts, images, and ideas spurred by that incredibly awkward conversation. The whole 'first kiss' subject was something of a sensitive topic with her (not that they had known, of course), and having it brought up only made her heart hurt. It wasn't like she didn't _**want**_ to have her first kiss – her first boyfriend.

Truthfully, her friends were right. She knew exactly _**who**_ she wanted those things from. But that was exactly the problem.

Her feet were finally slowing, and Orihime realized that – though her body clearly thought it was near its destination – she didn't actually know where she was going. And then her vision cleared and she stumbled to a dead stop, nearly falling on her face in the process. She was on the stairs, and in seven more steps she would be walking through the solid metal door that led to the roof. The very same roof, in fact, where Ichigo Kurosaki was currently eating his lunch.

Her breath hitched in her throat and, for the first time, she hesitated to move any closer to him. Given the circumstances behind her unkempt state she doubted that spending the rest of her lunch with him was the best of ideas.

_He would ask,_ she reminded herself. _He would definitely ask why I'm not eating with the girls; why I _**left**_ their group to come up here._ And then what would she say? She most certainly couldn't tell him the truth, but she was a terrible liar.

Expression becoming almost apologetic, Orihime pulled her lip between her teeth and, at length, forced her gaze away from the door on a sigh. _I guess I'm eating alone today…._ If he ever found out, he'd ask about that, too, but there was only so much she could do. _And he doesn't have to know,_ she reminded herself. He didn't usually ask about her lunch, after all. And today, at least, that would work in her favor.

Still, it took a herculean effort to actually turn around and force her feet to retrace their steps down the stairs.

* * *

**Ichigo Kurosaki's** scowl was etched firmly in place on his lips as he narrowed his eyes at the door behind Keigo. _I could've sworn…._ After a beat – when he was sure the door wasn't about to open – he turned his head ever-so-slightly and glanced again back down to the large courtyard. His gaze easily found the group of girls that Orihime and Tatsuki always ate with, and his scowl deepened as he realized that Orihime hadn't returned to them yet. He hadn't seen her leave (if he spent his lunch _**constantly**_ watching her he'd never hear the end of it), but he'd noted her absence nearly five minutes before.

"Uh, Ichigo?" Keigo called cautiously. "Is something wrong? You haven't exactly been eating…."

"You _**do**_ seem distracted," Uryuu agreed grudgingly, setting his juice box down as he glanced toward his orange-haired friend.

Ichigo grunted acknowledgment of their words, sliding his almost-glare back to the door. He was sure of it now. He had _**definitely **_sensed her slightly-elevated spiritual pressure on the other side of that door a minute ago. _What the hell's going on?_

"Ichigo?" Chad asked, frowning with growing concern at his friend's unusual behavior.

Keigo groaned loudly, hands latching on to the sides of his head as he exclaimed, "Oh, man, don't tell me it's one of those soul-eating-monster things!"

Uryuu rolled his eyes and said, "They're called _**hollows**_, and even you would notice if there was one around." He returned his irritated gaze to Ichigo and demanded, "Just tell us what's going on already!"

A quick glance at his cell phone informed him that there were over twenty minutes left of lunch. He'd never make it. Jaw tight, Ichigo shoved his things back into his school bag and pushed to his feet as he managed, "See you in class."

He ignored Keigo's sputtering and Uryuu's irritated glare as he threw his bag over his shoulder, strode to the door, yanked it open, and stepped through without another word. He knew they wouldn't follow him, for which he was grateful, and as soon as the door was shut behind him he took a deep breath and focused on finding Orihime.

It took only a moment for him to hone in on her familiar, warm spiritual pressure, and when he found it again he released a breath. It had stabilized slightly, meaning she was probably okay. Not that he would make any assumptions until he could see her.

His feet carried him swiftly down the stairs and out into the main hallway, and he didn't even bother grunting an apology to the group of students he startled by the door. He was coming to realize that Orihime seemed to have settled in one of the small side courtyards, and he was incredibly confused. So far as he knew, no one she regularly associated with ate in that area.

And then he was finally rounding the final corner, and he forced his feet to stop long enough for him to take a deep, calming breath. It wouldn't do for him to barge in like a barbarian if she were – for example – merely helping an underclassman.

She wasn't, of course. He knew that as soon as he laid eyes on her a moment later. Orihime was sitting in the corner, on the hallway floor, with her back against the wall. Her eyes were downcast and she was unenthusiastically picking at a piece of partially-eaten bread. She looked like she was settled in, intending to eat there until lunch was over.

Ichigo couldn't decide if he was more worried by the fact that she was sitting by herself, looking so obviously crestfallen, by the fact that she didn't seem to be interested in her own food, or by the fact that she hadn't noticed him yet. It couldn't be more obvious that something was bothering her.

He kept his pace as casual as he could as he approached her, but the longer she failed to notice his presence the higher his concern became. When he at last reached her side he shifted, pulling his bag from his shoulder, and lowered himself to the ground as he gently asked, "What are you doing by yourself?"

Orihime started, sucking in a gasp as her head snapped up, eyes wide, and she cried, "I-Ichigo! Wh-what are you doing here?" She paled, a horrified light flicking across her eyes, and immediately began waving her hands – one of which was still holding her bread – as she quickly added, "Not that you can't be here, of course! Oh, wow, that came out so wrong, I'm sorry! It's just that I thought you were up on the roof with the guys and I wasn't expecting you!"

Ichigo let his lips lift in a faint grin. _Rambling's always a good sign, at least,_ he told himself. "Relax, Orihime," he said easily. His eyes snapped up to her flailing hands just as her bread slipped from her grasp, and he snatched it out of the air before it could flatten against the wall. A chuckle rumbled up in his throat, then, and he held it out to her as he added, "You should be more careful, though."

"Eh heh heh," Orihime laughed softly, taking the bread back carefully. "Thank you."

"So," Ichigo began after a beat, one eyebrow lifting, "what's going on? I thought I sensed your spiritual pressure on the roof earlier, and now I find you sitting out here like you're on time-out?"

Orihime lifted surprised eyes back to his, her bread forgotten in her lap. "You noticed that…?" she asked quietly.

"I did," he replied. He wasn't surprised by her stalling. She always hated telling him about things that were bothering her.

For a beat, Orihime didn't know what to say. Then she found her voice, offered him a reassuring smile, and declared, "I'm fine, really. The girls just started talking about awkward things, and I decided I didn't want to hear it!"

It was Ichigo's turn to hesitate now. 'Girls' and 'awkward things' were two terms he tried to avoid when paired together. _Where the hell's Tatsuki when you need her, anyway?_ Still, he couldn't not at least _**try**_ to verify that she really was – or really would be – alright, so he asked, "…are you sure? That doesn't explain why you climbed all the way up to the roof and then turned around."

Orihime laughed self-consciously, looking away as she admitted, "Well, the truth is, I was afraid someone would ask what the 'awkward things' were, and I didn't really want to have to repeat them! I'm sorry…I really wasn't trying to worry you, Ichigo."

Ichigo was quiet for a moment, studying her. She did mostly seem to be behaving like her normal self now, and if she didn't want to talk about those 'awkward things' then he had no intention of making her. Nor was she avoiding his gaze, like she tended to when she knew she wasn't telling him something that he would want her to be telling him.

Satisfied, at least for the moment, Ichigo relented and inclined his head, saying, "You don't need to apologize, Orihime. But you don't get to finish your lunch alone, either."

Orihime blinked up at him as he proceeded to unzip his school bag and extract what was left of his lunch. _Sometimes,_ her mind whispered, _he's too perfect._ A slow, genuine smile lifted her lips and she nodded, declaring, "That seems like an acceptable compromise!"

She had been silly to have ever doubted her instincts. Ichigo's company was exactly what she'd needed.

* * *

**By the** end of the school day Orihime seemed to be completely back to her usual bubbly self, and Ichigo breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was talking to Chizuru and Michiru as she filed out of the classroom, meaning she wasn't avoiding her other friends. And that meant he wasn't going to have to dig any deeper into whatever uncomfortable conversation had sent her running from her lunch-group.

"What was going on with you earlier, anyway?" Mizuiro was suddenly asking as he and Keigo fell in behind Ichigo on their way out of the classroom.

Shoving his free hand into his pants pocket, Ichigo replied, "It was nothing; sorry about bailing on you like that."

"Man," Keigo began, "if that's how you react to 'nothing' I don't want to be around when 'something' happens!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend's typical dramatic behavior and grunted, "It _**turned out**_ to be nothing, is that better?"

"No," Mizuiro replied with a smirk, "because now Keigo's going to keep bugging you about it."

"Very funny," Keigo returned, glowering at his longtime friend.

Ichigo's attention had already moved on. As they'd rounded the first corner on their way to the stairs his eyes had landed on Orihime, who was also making her way toward the stairs that led to freedom. She was walking by herself now – the girls she'd been talking to earlier nowhere in sight.

A quick mental catalogue of his afternoon schedule assured him that he had the time for a slight detour, and Ichigo adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder as he called back, "Hey, I'll catch up with you guys tomorrow, alright?"

"Sure," Mizuiro said, attention seemingly focused on his phone.

Ichigo barely waited for Keigo's sigh of resignation before picking up his pace and maneuvering his way through the throng of fleeing students. He'd lost sight of her again, as she had rounded the next corner already, but he knew he could make up the ground.

He was around the corner – and down the first half-flight of stairs – almost immediately, and as soon as he had cleared the corner wall his eyes landed once again on the girl he was searching for.

She was standing on the small, square landing, off to the side, and talking with a guy from a different senior class. Or, more accurately, _**he**_ was talking _**to**_ her and _**she**_ was attempting to find a polite way to escape his attention.

Ichigo ground his teeth, fist tightening over the straps of his school bag, and adjusted his course enough to take him over to them instead of down the next flight of stairs. He was close enough now to hear Orihime's forced laughter, and he had to remind himself that awkward situations were no excuse to go pulverizing his peers.

"-appreciate the offer, but I'm really not interested," Orihime insisted with an awkward, insincere smile.

"Aw, come on," the guy before her argued with an obviously-flirtatious grin. He had lifted one hand, mouth open with the clear intent to say more, when his gaze snapped past her and the laughing light in his eyes vanished. His grin transformed into a firm line and his hand fell back to his side, fist clenched, as he said, "Kurosaki."

Coming to a stop at Orihime's side, Ichigo kept his glare on the other man and stated, "You weren't bothering her I hope." He was well aware that there was an edge to his tone that indicated he almost hoped the man _**had**_ been bothering her.

"Ichigo!" Orihime cried reflexively, spinning slightly in order to look up at him. She did her best to keep her suddenly-genuine smile from revealing her grateful relief as she quickly said, "Oh, no, we were done talking anyway! I thought you were meeting me at the gate?"

'Meeting at the gate' was a code-phrase they had developed during their second year for situations exactly like this. Orihime had been reluctant to agree to it, insisting it was unnecessary, but Ichigo was nothing if not determined (perhaps better defined as stubborn), and before long she had realized that it did actually come in handy. If Ichigo said it it meant 'I'm walking you home today,' and if Orihime said it it meant 'could you walk me home?' To which, of course, Ichigo's answer was always 'yes' – given with the subtlest of nods.

This time was no exception, as Ichigo flicked an acknowledgment glance at her and inclined his head as he said, "Yeah, but it looked like he was pestering you."

"The only _**pest**_ around here is you, Kurosaki," their fellow upperclassman declared pointedly.

Ichigo returned his focus to the guy whose name he didn't know and easily returned, "Then I'll just get going."

Orihime took his hint, offered one more fake smile to the man standing opposite her, and declared, "Have a good day!" Even as the words were falling from her lips she was turning and walking deliberately around Ichigo, keeping a wide berth between herself and her most recent admirer.

Ichigo made no attempt to feign pleasantries as he turned and fell into step beside the healer, making a point to keep himself between her and the other guy until the guy was behind them.

When they were stepping onto the ground-floor hall Orihime finally offered a quiet, "Thanks, Ichigo."

It took a physical effort not to switch his school bag to his other side in order to pull her into him, and, honestly, he was surprised he managed to resist the temptation as he replied, "You know you don't have to thank me."

Orihime turned a bright, sincere smile up at him without breaking stride and insisted, "Of course I do! What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't thank you for doing things for me?"

He didn't even try to stop the smirk from curving his lips, saying, "When you put it that way, I guess we're both a little hypocritical on the subject."

She laughed easily at the truth in his words, and another brief, comfortable stretch of silence encompassed them once her laughter had subsided.

After a minute, Orihime opened her mouth to say something, her eyes simultaneously landing on Mahana, and her mouth snapped shut once again. The other girl was standing several yards away, talking with some girls Orihime didn't know, but the sight of her was enough to remind Orihime of their awkward lunch conversation. She quickly averted her eyes, feeling a twinge of guilt as she found herself hoping that Mahana wouldn't see her – or, at least, wouldn't call out to her. And she _**really**_ hoped that Mahana would refrain from bringing up the subject again in the future.

_Just forget about it,_ she instructed herself firmly. _You get an extra ten or so minutes with Ichigo today – don't spoil them by dwelling on that horrible conversation!_

They were rounding the corner and putting the school behind them before Orihime finally managed to take her own advice.

* * *

**"I'm really** serious about this, Orihime," Mahana insisted as she caught up with her auburn-haired friend in the hall near the start of lunch the following day.

Orihime immediately flushed and began stammering, wishing fervently that her friend would drop the issue altogether. "N-no, really, Mahana, you don't need to worry!"

"But I _**do**_," Mahana replied firmly, hands on her hips. "Think about it, Orihime. What if," here she paused again, eyes scanning the students in the yard until she found a former classmate walking toward his friends, and then she continued, "_**That**_ guy just walked right up to you and kissed you out of the blue?"

In the space it took Orihime – whose eyes had automatically followed Mahana's gesturing hand – to come up with a coherent response, a new voice joined the conversation.

"He did _**what**_?" Ichigo demanded, having rounded the corner and found himself within earshot of their conversation at exactly the wrong moment. His narrowed brown eyes were locked on the indicated figure. _That could explain Orihime's odd behavior yesterday._

Orihime spun, eyes impossibly wide, and sucked in a startled breath at Ichigo's sudden appearance. For a long second she could only blink up at him, her mouth opening and closing several times as her voice failed her. And a traitorous part of her wanted to see how he'd react to the idea of someone kissing her.

_No! Bad!_ Orihime screamed at herself, shaking her head and stamping down on the errant, horrible thought. She finally stabilized her heartbeat enough to manage, "I-Ichigo! It's not – that is, I mean, it didn't really-"

"It was a hypothetical question," Mahana offered, seeming to have already found her composure as her arms fell back to her sides. She looked straight up at Ichigo, undaunted by the deep scowl on his face or the dark look in his eyes. "No one's _**actually**_ kissed her. Which is exactly my point."

The oddity of her statement finally seeped through Ichigo's temper and he dragged his eyes over to the other girl. If the guy hadn't actually kissed Orihime it wouldn't take a lot of effort to let him live, but the entire situation was making him feel increasingly more confused. "What?"

"Eh heh," Orihime laughed awkwardly, looking between her friends with a seemingly-permanent stain on her cheeks. "Mahana," she said pleadingly, trying to get the girl's attention long enough to silently talk her out of continuing.

Mahana ignored Orihime's less-than-subtle pleas and crossed her arms as she explained, "Everyone knows Orihime's never had a boyfriend – or ever even been kissed. But college is barely a month away; it wouldn't be a good idea for her start college without at least her first _**kiss**_ under her belt."

Orihime's face was nearly crimson, and she dearly wished for a hole to open up directly beneath her feet so that she could fall into it. But, she supposed, she'd settle for a senkaimon or a garganta. _**Anything**_ to get her out of this horrendously uncomfortable conversation.

Ichigo blinked at Mahana for a moment. Her explanation had not lessened his confusion even a little, but he had become sufficiently uncomfortable. The very last thing he wanted to be talking about with _**anyone**_ was Orihime's love-life – let alone when that person was one of Orihime's friends or when Orihime herself was standing right there. And yet here he was, being directly included and, therefore, finding himself with the obligation of responding. So, at length, he offered, "…That doesn't make a lot of sense. What the hell does college have to do with _**that**_?"

"It doesn't matter!" Orihime inserted quickly, her voice starting out as a squeak before rising rapidly in pitch. She waved her free hand wildly, another awkward laugh slipping free, before adding, "Mahana's just overreacting is all! It's really nothing to worry about!"

"Yes it is," Mahana asserted, sliding a pointed look to her friend. Then she returned her gaze to Ichigo, who had also glanced at Orihime, and added, "When my older sister started college she had her first kiss stolen by a complete stranger on her third day. She cried for _**hours**_. I just don't want to see Orihime go through that – I mean, my sister at least had us to come home to every day."

"I'll be fine, Mahana," Orihime assured, her voice soft and her eyes downcast. She knew Mahana hadn't meant to remind her how alone she was every night.

Arms dropping back to her sides, Mahana looked over to Orihime again and said, "Of course you will. And to make sure of it, I'm going to make it my mission that you have your first kiss – at the very least – before we graduate high school!"

Orihime's head snapped back up, eyes wide again with horror, and she cried, "Eh? B-but that's only a week and a half away!"

Eyes shining now with determination and confidence, Mahana propped a hand on her hip and replied, "I know."

Ichigo – still attempting to recover from the sudden resurgence of his ongoing fear that Orihime might get mauled the moment she stepped foot on a college campus – swallowed heavily and reached out, wrapping his fingers around Orihime's nearest wrist. "C'mon," he grunted, already turning and guiding her down the hall, "if we keep standing here we won't have time to eat."

Orihime couldn't help but stare at her wrist – which was still wrapped firmly in his hand – as she attempted to keep up with him. "Ichigo," she began, "you really don't have to…that is, um…."

"It's fine," he replied, slowing his pace only once they had rounded a second corner and he knew Mahana and her crazy topic of choice were behind them. "Nobody minds. Besides, Tatsuki would want me to protect you from that psycho you call a friend."

Falling into step beside him, Orihime couldn't help but smile ruefully. _Tatsuki probably _**did**_ ask him to do that,_ she thought, reflecting on her absentee-friend.

Smile still tugging at her lips, Orihime dutifully argued, "Chizuru's not psychotic."

Ichigo grunted something unintelligible, his hand subconsciously sliding down to hers as he recalled the latest incident – the morning before – with the aforementioned girl. And, in his opinion, she qualified in every way.

The conversation fell into what should have been a comfortable silence, only as it settled Orihime began to think that perhaps she should apologize for the _**other**_ conversation. Or explain it. Only, Mahana had done a decent job of explaining it and talking about _**that**_ with _**him**_ would probably prove to be impossible. _But I should definitely apologize,_ she told herself.

Her eyes darted down – again – to the strong, tanned and calloused hand that was still wrapped around hers, and she hesitated. His skin was warm, even electrifying, and though his grip was firm his touch was completely gentle. Her hand was nestled so securely within his that she almost wanted to take a picture of it, just to preserve the memory.

_What if bringing it up somehow reminds him that he's still holding my hand?_

It wasn't as if this were the first time that they had touched.

After the Winter War – and Ichigo's thankfully-temporary loss of power – he had become a bit more _**physical**_. They'd held hands at least a half-dozen times before, though almost always only for brief moments. Once he had even wrapped his entire arm around her, clamping his hand over her hip and holding her tight against the side of his body. _**That**_ incident had turned her scarlet in less than a heartbeat.

But even then she hadn't really been able to revel in it. They had gone to a concert with their friends – Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro, Chad, and Rukia (Uryuu hadn't been interested) – and the crowd had separated Ichigo, Orihime, and Rukia from the rest of the group on their way out. Even as he'd wrapped his arm around Orihime's waist he'd been reaching forward in order to settle his other hand on Rukia's nearest shoulder.

Despite her best efforts, Orihime only barely remembered the feel of his strong arm around her. What she remembered most in that moment was watching him hold on to their petite friend, who didn't even startle at the should've-been-unexpected contact, and wondering if that meant Ichigo and Rukia had become _**closer**_ since the Soul Reaper had begun visiting Karakura again.

That thought alone had been enough to dampen her excitement for the rest of the evening.

Orihime shook her head, shoving away the tainted memory. In _**this**_ moment there was no one else he was sharing physical contact with. _**This**_ moment she could treasure unabashedly. But, in order to do that, she had to keep quiet. If she ruined it by bringing the conversation back around to Mahana's obsession with her first kiss (and god only knew what else), then he would release her hand and it would be over.

Before she realized it, Orihime's wandering memory had blocked out most of the journey to the roof. It wasn't until Ichigo slowed once again as they neared the door that Orihime realized she was even standing on a staircase. And that marked the _**second**_ day in a row where she had climbed the stairs to the roof in a daze – something she knew better than to ever tell Ichigo about.

_I guess the moment's over, anyway,_ she thought, realizing he would have to release her hand in order to open the door. Disappointment threatened to deflate her, but Orihime did her best to force it back. At least there had _**been**_ a moment.

As their hands fell apart, Orihime's skin still tingling from their points of contact, she murmured, "I'm sorry, Ichigo."

Ichigo paused, tips of his fingers barely touching the handle to the door, and glanced sideways down at the girl beside him. He frowned at the sight of her bowed head and the way she had already wrapped her recently-released hand around her opposite elbow. His hand fell back to his side and he shifted just slightly, making it easier to see her as he quietly demanded, "Sorry for what? What's wrong, Orihime?"

There was a second of silence as Orihime gathered her words, and then she lifted her head slightly and a short bout of self-conscious laughter filled the distance between them as she said, "I'm sorry about that weirdness with Mahana. I don't know what's gotten her all worked up!"

Ichigo studied her – free hand now embracing the back of her head as she fought against an embarrassed blush, laughing smile lifting her lips – and realized far too late that he needed to be fighting an internal battle of his own.

He didn't register the soft _thud_ of his school bag hitting the stone step behind him until he had already started forward. And then he had walked into her personal space, backing her deliberately against the wall, not stopping until the inside of his right thigh was touching the outside of her left.

Orihime's eyes were wide, her heart skipping beats erratically in her chest, as Ichigo cornered her. There was a strange, determined light in his eyes that she didn't understand and he was standing_** so close**_. Then he raised his arms, planting his palms against the wall on either side of her shoulders, and leaned down. That look was still in his eyes and she could _**see**_ (not to mention feel) the tension in his muscles, and she was paralyzed. _What…what is he…doing?_

Ichigo didn't stop moving until their bodies were more flush than not. His arms were locked on either side of her, he was nearly straddling one of her legs, their chests were pressed together and his face was so close to hers that he could feel her warm breath on his cheeks. Her scent had long since invaded his nostrils, only helping to tighten the coil within him, and his mouth had gone dry at the nearness of hers.

If either of them dared move forward they would be kissing.

"You're not the only one who's looking at starting college without ever having been kissed," Ichigo declared, his voice low and deep.

His hot breath fanned down her chin and over the side of her neck, and Orihime couldn't quite suppress the shiver of delight the sensation brought. She wanted to be embarrassed – he could have noticed! – but it was hard to feel anything other than hesitant, hopeful confusion at his words. And she couldn't break from his piercing, powerful gaze.

Without thought, Orihime let her own bag slip from her fingers to fall at their feet as her arms lifted until her hands had curled into the sides of his shirt. What did it say about her that she maybe-not-so-suddenly wanted to wrap her arms and legs around him and _**let**_ him pin her to the wall?

"Wh-what are you…saying?" Orihime asked, her voice barely a whisper, as she made a valiant attempt to refrain from licking her lips.

Ichigo swallowed, his eyes transfixed by her lips for a moment as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. It was an effort just to remember the answer to her question. "Technically," he began, a new weight to his voice that hadn't been there before, "I'm _**offering**_." He had intended to say more, but the words were getting stuck and tangled on his tongue.

Orihime was sure that if her eyes were any bigger they would fall completely out of her head. She was equally sure that if her heart didn't calm down she wouldn't live long enough to have to worry about her eyes falling out. Because there was no way – _**no way**_ – that Ichigo Kurosaki had just offered to be her first kiss. More importantly, he had _**not**_ just _**asked**_ her to be his. And she was _**absolutely not**_ secretly celebrating the fact that that meant he and Rukia had never become the kind of close she'd been worrying about.

Still, for someone who wasn't silently celebrating something, it was awfully hard to keep the smile from her face.

At length, Orihime found her voice again enough to manage one simple (though arguably stupid) question. "…Why?" And, as the question fell from her lips, she suddenly realized that her whole world hinged on his response.

There was another way to look at his offer. He was _**ridiculously**_ overprotective of the people he cared about – and she _**knew**_ he cared about her, if not the way she cared about him. He also wasn't exactly the kind of guy who was likely to get hung up on romantic ideals like a first kiss. Maybe it didn't matter to him so much whether or not he shared his first kiss with someone he had romantic feelings for. Or maybe it just didn't matter _**as much**_ as the idea of making sure his good friend wasn't taken advantage of.

For that matter, maybe Mahana's words had resonated in him somehow, and he'd decided that he didn't want _**either**_ of them to have to take that risk. He trusted her, after all, and he knew that she trusted him as well.

She refused to consider the very minimal possibility that he just wanted a little practice before he finally started dating, and this was more or less simply a 'two birds, one stone' scenario.

But, unless he had offered because he had even a semblance of 'more than friends' feelings for her, she just didn't think she could go through with it. She would be satisfied with him admitting to wondering if they could possibly be more, even if he didn't reciprocate her feelings – he certainly wouldn't have to know unless he himself reached that level. That would be more than enough for her to give in; for her to be on cloud nine for the foreseeable future, even. But less than that…if those other possible reasons were even half true…she wouldn't be able to.

As much as she would _**love**_ to give her first kiss (for that matter, her first, middle, and last _**everything**_) to him, she knew it would kill her to kiss him _**knowing**_ that nothing would come of it. She had come close to kissing him once before, after all, and her reason for pulling away back then had been largely the same. It wasn't that she didn't want to; it was that she had known he wouldn't have even been open to it if he'd been conscious and known he might never see her again.

She refused to remember her first kiss – with anyone, but especially Ichigo – as a kiss of convenience, necessity, or resignation. For her own sake, she had to stick to that, even if it meant never knowing what it was like to be kissed at all.

_"Why?"_

It was a perfectly good question. A question he'd actually intended to answer before she had even asked it. But how the hell did he make those words fall out of his mouth? This was rapidly becoming a situation he had never prepared for. He had always _**intended**_ to keep her at arms' length – to be her friend, her trusted ally, and nothing more. She deserved far better than him and he knew it.

Now, to keep that distance, he was faced with needing to lie. He would need to lie his ass off if he wanted her to believe him at this stage, and even more so if he really wanted to go through with the idea of kissing her anyway. And even if he wasn't already a pretty infamously terrible liar, he'd be having a problem. He wasn't so sure he could lie to her; especially not like this.

He was studying her expression as he fought with himself on his answer. Before she'd whispered her question this undeniable light had warmed her eyes. She had almost looked…hopeful. Then she'd asked him that simple, terrifying question and just as nerves had overtaken his own stomach her expression had fallen. Her eyes were slightly drooped and faded, indicating that she herself was lost in thought, and her lips were nearly pouting.

He'd seen a version of this look before, whenever she talked herself out of something she really wanted. But…did that mean she _**wanted**_ him to kiss her?

_**That**_ was a dangerous idea. That would change everything. If she wanted him – in any way, even for a day – and he _**knew**_ it, he'd be screwed. An army of Espada wouldn't be able to stop him from giving her whatever it was she was asking of him. He had only held out as long as he had because he'd convinced himself his friends were idiots who didn't know what they were talking about.

Watching her face now, however, was making him second-guess himself. He knew her expressions better than his own. And that made his answer easy. He hated lying to her, anyway.

He cleared his throat, partly to find his voice again and partly to drag her focus back to the present, and when she lifted her eyes back to his he swallowed and bit the proverbial bullet.

"Lots of reasons," he began, "but, mostly, because I think if we keep going like this then one day it'll be _**me**_ who takes what you haven't offered. Plus, it'd probably be bad if I ended up killing some guy just because he was dumb enough to make a move on you."

Her lips twitched at his words even as her hands curled a little tighter in the sides of his shirt. She liked what he'd said; it gave her a little of the hope that had been fading from her heart. But she wasn't sure it was enough. She wasn't sure it told her what she needed to hear in order to take that step.

"Ichigo…" she began, her voice trailing. How did she ask for what she needed without revealing why she was asking in the first place?

He bumped his forehead against hers, their noses touching, and murmured, "I'll give you mine, if you'll give me yours." It sounded so stupid, but it was the simplest way to be entirely honest with her.

Orihime's eyes widened again, her heart rate skyrocketing back up into the danger zone. There was something in his eyes – something new – that had her instincts screaming at her, insisting that there was more to what he'd said than it initially seemed. "Are…are we still talking about…kisses?"

His gaze softened, his warm chocolate eyes smoldering as his lips lifted at the corners and he replied, "If that's all you're comfortable with."

Swallowing heavily, Orihime forced herself to ask, "And…if it's…not?"

His voice heavy with desire and something else, he said, "Then feel free to look deeper."

"Ichigo," she mumbled, her breath catching at the very possibility. A look flashed through his eyes, a look that told her he wasn't necessarily ready to spell out the rest, and her decision was made. Her lips lifted softly and she whispered, "Kiss me."

He bowed his head and closed the distance between them without another thought. His lips were over hers an instant later, and her hands almost simultaneously curled tighter in his shirt as she attempted to hold him in place. Her lips were soft and pliant under his, and he made a valiant effort to keep the kiss slow and controlled for a long minute.

But that minute was all he was good for, and then another fraction of his self-control snapped and his tongue slipped out, tracing along her full, lightly strawberry-flavored lower lip.

When her lips parted for him, welcoming him into the sweet, moist cavern of her mouth, his hands slid from their places on the wall until he was framing her cheeks with his palms. His fingers were immediately lost in the thick tresses of auburn that framed her face, but he could barely note that her hair was as soft as he'd imagined.

He was too far lost in the taste of her kiss.

Orihime didn't even have the presence of mind to try to stop the muffled moan that came from somewhere within her as Ichigo's tongue swept over hers. Her body was burning and tingling and with every pass of his tongue some primal, instinctive part of her screamed for more. He was leaning into her, using his body to press her against the wall, and his kiss was just as powerful as she had hoped, yet his touch was so light – so gentle – that it warmed her to her toes.

Ichigo finally dragged his lips from hers with a poorly-stifled groan, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen (as opposed to the rest of him, which was wholly burning with the need for _**her**_). He could barely distinguish the harsh, ragged sound of his own panting from the undeniable, delicate sound of hers, and it brought a smirk to his lips.

Orihime Inoue was flushed, a shine of desire in her eyes, and gasping for breath through kiss-swollen lips. All because of _**him**_. She was clinging on to _**his**_ shirt; holding _**him**_ in place against her body. She was looking up at him like she wanted _**more**_ – more of him, more of what they'd been doing. And he would never get enough of that, no matter how many times he saw it.

He hadn't found his voice yet when Orihime suddenly said, "Walk me home tonight."

Ichigo blinked at her for a second, attempting to drag at least _**some**_ of his thoughts out of the gutter, before he finally managed, "…tonight?" The thought of being alone with her at night was doing nothing for his gutter-problem.

She nodded faintly, somehow simultaneously tilting her head just slightly into the palm of one of his hands, and replied, "Well, I know you have to work right after school. And I'm closing, so I'll be working late…which I know you don't like, anyway."

It was his turn to nod as he finally caught up to her logic, his other hand sliding down her neck slowly before curving over her shoulder and continuing down her side. He was lightly massaging her cheek with his thumb as he said, "You make a good point. Ten, right?"

"Mhmm," Orihime hummed, her eyes drifting closed as his other hand settled over her hip possessively. She was surrounded by his heat – not to mention his spiritual pressure – and she didn't think she'd ever felt safer, let alone more content. "And we should really talk, don't you think?"

Ichigo tried valiantly not to snort – and only half succeeded – before he grunted, "Right. Because _**talking**_ is all we'll be doing."

"Well," Orihime began, her eyes opening and lingering on his lips even as her hands released his shirt and she dragged them around to rest on his chest, "it should definitely be included."

"True," Ichigo agreed thickly, his hand tightening over her hip.

There was a moment's pause, and then he leaned down again, meeting her half-way for a second kiss. Her arms lifted, curving around his neck and fingers burying themselves in his hair, as his formerly-raised hand slid down her torso until it had settled over her other hip.

Lunch was long forgotten as Ichigo took a half-step away from the wall, giving himself just enough room to wind his arms entirely around her waist and haul her properly against his body.

* * *

**"So,"** Mahana began the next day as she caught up to Orihime at the start of lunch. They were barely out of the classroom, students wandering in both directions, and the rest of their group of friends were hanging back just a couple of feet, impatiently waiting on them. "Are you ready to give this some serious thought?"

Orihime blinked over at her friend, for a moment thrown by the question. And then realization dawned and she couldn't stop herself from laughing self-consciously. With everything that had developed between her and Ichigo the day before she had entirely forgotten about what had actually started it.

When she thought about the previous day, her memory didn't bother going further back than the stairwell at lunch, where she and Ichigo had ended up making out until finally being caught by an incredibly flustered, stammering Uryuu. As bad as she felt for making her friend uncomfortable, she couldn't help but cherish the memory.

And after a long shift at work (lengthened, she was sure, by her eagerness to see Ichigo again), she and Ichigo had spent nearly two more hours together at her apartment. They were officially dating now; an agreement that had sparked a whole new round of passionate kisses – this time including wandering hands. Neither had been all that thrilled when they'd realized how late it was, and Ichigo had reluctantly headed home.

"You haven't, have you?" Mahana asked, shaking her head and inadvertently dragging Orihime back into the present. Hands planted on her hips now, she added, "Orihime, this is important! You should not be so willing to risk your first kiss!"

"Eh," Orihime stammered, unsure of exactly how to reply to her friend's words. She knew what she _**needed**_ to say, but she hadn't yet figured out _**how**_ to say it. Did one just open their mouths and blurt their updated relationship status?

A strong arm settled around Orihime's shoulders, drawing her into Ichigo's side as his spiritual pressure wrapped around her like a cocoon, and he declared, "Give her a break. If some idiot tries to touch her then he deserves what he gets."

Mahana sighed dramatically, not even trying to hide her eye-roll, and said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're actually part of the problem. How's Orihime supposed to get a boyfriend with you glaring everyone who so much as _**looks**_ at her into submission?"

Orihime reached up with her free hand, letting her fingers curve loosely around Ichigo's wrist, and said, "That's kind of the point, Mahana. I, um, actually _**do**_ have a boyfriend now…so, really, he's supposed to be glaring other guys into submission!"

Beside her, Ichigo chuckled, smirking at her choice of wording. Then he reached around her with his other hand and snatched her school bag from her grasp before adding, "C'mon, let's go eat something."

Pouting now, Orihime cried, "Eh, Ichigo! I could carry that!"

"You could," he agreed as he turned her away from the gaping girls. He wasn't necessarily looking forward to sharing lunch with the rest of their friends, but he also knew that isolating himself with her would probably be a bad idea. It was clear he had absolutely _**no**_ self-control with her anymore.

Orihime smiled, laughing softly, and let him lead the way to the stairs. And, as she thought about the last time they'd walked this path, she couldn't help but note that it was amazing how much things could change in just twenty-four hours.

"I love you," she murmured, her head tilting into his shoulder.

His arm tightened around her as he softly replied, "Love you, too, Hime."

_**The End**_

_**A/N:**_ Well, there you have it! I really truly hope you enjoyed this little fluff-piece! And perhaps you'd be so kind as to give me one final review, too? Pretty please?

_**For All Those Interested in Learning More About My Upcoming Original Work:**_

The scheduled release date is currently August 30th of this year (which is _**so**_ close!), and it is tentatively titled _Campfire Romance_. The title is, of course, subject to change as the editing process continues.

For continued updates, I encourage you all to follow me on my newly-established **Twitter** account! You can find me at** RoseWulfAuthor**! And for anyone interested in getting up-to-date info when the time comes but who doesn't have a Twitter, let me know in a review/private message, and I'll be happy to contact you!

Thank you to all of my readers, reviewers, and story-(or author)-favoriters! I'll miss you all dearly; best of luck and happy reading!


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